Unrequited Love
Word count: <1k
Tags and TW/CW: V/Reader, Angst
Imagine being the employee that would serve V every morning. He had become a regular at the shop you worked at. He came in daily, so it was easy to remember his order. You had to admit, he was very handsome. You had decided to make an effort to get to know him. You weren't sure what made you get to know him, the fact that he was regular, or the fact that you had a slight crush on him.
Apparently he was a photographer. You had spent many mornings listening to him talk about his photos and talking about his meanings with him. He spoke with such passion in his voice. This “small” crush that you had on him soon turned into something much bigger. It was a cliched dream; a coffee shop love story where the customer falls for the lovestruck barista, but you tried no to get your hopes up too high. It was hard to ignore after a certain point, but you truly tried not to care too much. However, there was some unconscious part of you that held on to this hope.
So when he came in with a new blonde woman in the morning, you had hoped it wasn't what you thought it was.
You would shamelessly attempt to eavesdrop on the conversation and honestly, that was such a shitty mistake on your part. Their conversations were much more lively than the conversations you had with him. You had thought that he was truly being genuine with you, but in reality those conversations were nothing but friendly talk. Nothing more. You stopped listening after a while. The conversations you guys would have in the morning slowly but noticeably became shorter. It was no longer the hour long conversations you previously had and instead had gone down to simple greetings. You wanted to initiate more, but he seemed so happy when he was with her. You didn't want to disturb them.
After finally giving in and realizing that the man you were once in love with didn't feel the same, you resorted to watching from a distance… but the way he talked with her, the way he looked at her… it was all too much. His eyes lit up with a type of joy that didn't happen when he was with you. It hurt to watch, and not even in a jealous way. You had even briefly thought about switching shifts. You ultimately decided against that but on days where you already felt bad and knew watching them flirt with each other would send you over the edge, you called in sick.
When you thought things couldn't get any worse, you realized the frequency at which they were coming was much less than before. It went from everyday, to every other day, to only Wednesday, until one day you realized that he wouldn't be back. You would stare at the door around the time he’d usually come in, hoping to see that familiar face, but you never did. Your heart yearned to hear his voice again, but you knew deep down that you wouldn't. You tried to get over this, you really did, but you would catch yourself thinking about him daily even when you weren't working.
You thought his last visit was the last time you'd see him but to your surprise, you were wrong. He came in alone a bit earlier than usual and he looked… exhausted. He had glasses on and didn't walk very fast, but you could tell he was tired. He didn't even have to say his order, you had remembered his order long ago and went immediately to make it. You wanted to ask where he went, if he would come back, if he was even doing ok, but he didn't seem open to conversation. You left him alone to his business and went about your day. The hard realization had hit you with the fact that you weren't even on that level with him. You didn't have a right to know, you were nothing but a barista to him.
He didn't come back after that. You weren't sure what happened or why he looked so tired and you knew you never would. You saw that woman on the news and that left you with even more questions.
You thought about quitting. There were other jobs lined up to you and you were thinking about moving to another place, but that same unconscious feeling that made you initiate conversation with him that first day you met him was the same one holding on to the dream that maybe, just maybe, he’d be back.
And when he was back, he’d be back for you. It was such a silly dream of yours.